


Just Two Girls in a Bar

by thatkategirl82



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Academia, F/F, Just two girls in a bar, Late Night Conversations, Marisa has a lot of thoughts, Maryisa, Science GFs, Sort of AU, take down the patriarchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatkategirl82/pseuds/thatkategirl82
Summary: “What are you doing here?” Mary pulled her drink closer and took a long sip, slurping at the empty bottom in a way that made Marisa’s eye twitch.“Can’t a girl have a drink at a bar?”orMarisa and Mary run into each other at a bar and strike up a conversation that makes Marisa think.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Just Two Girls in a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> All of my thoughts are consumed by these two!!

“Something stiff, please.”

The words were soft; barely even noticeable with the noise from the street and the low chatter of some of the other early evening drunks. Yet, there was something about them. Those three simple words, strung together, were so distracting that Marisa Coulter found herself dragging her eyes upwards, away from the melting ice in her glass, so she could look to the other side of the bar.

What she saw made her straighten. It was _her_.

Mary Malone had collapsed most haphazardly into her bar stool. Her backpack was on the stool next to her, looking very precariously perched, with her jacket draped over top. The woman herself was leaning forward, both elbows on the bar, staring blankly at whatever bottles of liquor happened to be in her sight.

What was she doing here?

Marisa took another sip of her drink, sighing internally as water with a _hint_ of gin hit her tongue. The bartender noticed.

“Another?”

Marisa slid the empty glass across the bar towards him. “Please, if you’d be so kind.”

He nodded and smiled. She smiled back, a dazzling one that could win over the trust of the most uptight member of the Magisterium. It was the smile she used to ensnare men – a smile that had never before failed her, and one that she was skilled at using to her advantage. The bartender returned quickly, placing the drink down in front of her. She reached for it, allowing her fingers to skate over the top of his for the briefest moment.

“So,” He leaned down, elbows against the bar. He pretended to wipe up a bit of spilled liquor for a moment before giving up on the act and instead settling his eyes on her. “Are you new to Oxford?”

Marisa leaned forward and glanced around conspiratorially. “If I told you, I’m afraid I would have to kill you."

He laughed, a loud guffaw that sent a wave of irritation down her spine. “You’re funny.”

Marisa sipped her drink. _What's actually funny is that he believes I'm joking._ “I’m quite the comedian.”

“What’s your name?” He was leaning closer now, brown eyes twinkling with interest. _Got you._ “I’m Finlay.”

Marisa held her hand out, delicately, and allowed him to grasp her fingers. His hand was rough and a bit sticky, and it took all of her self-control not to rip it away immediately. “Marisa.”

“Marisa,” He repeated. “I haven’t had the pleasure of being acquainted with many Marisa’s.”

Marisa’s patience was waning. “I suppose I am one of a kind.”

“Certainly.” A grin spread across his lips, and his eyes swept up and down her frame.

“Eh, can I get another?” A man called from the other side of the bar, making her new pal sigh and frown.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Before you go,” She said, quickly, reaching out to cover his hand with her fingers again. “My check, please?”

“It’s on the house today,” He covered her hand with his free one. “Just promise I’ll see you in here again, yeah? I’d like to talk some more, _Marisa_.”

The way he emphasized her name made her consider throwing her gin in his face, but she didn’t. There was no reason to waste good alcohol. Instead, she dazzled him with another smile. _The_ smile.

“Of course,” Her voice was low, sultry. “With such phenomenal service, how could I dare stay away?”

The man at the other end of the bar yelled about his drink again, and with one last smile Finlay the bartender was gone. Marisa leaned back, blowing out a sigh through her nose. She wished she had some sort of sanitizer – her hands felt dirty from the contact. She hated touching strangers, especially strange men, and she hated the way they looked at her.

She’d learned long ago that using her beauty to her advantage could get her a lot farther in life than she'd otherwise be able. In a world where men saw her as unintelligent eye candy, she’d learned to be just that. She’d learned to watch, listen, take notes, and when the opportunity presented itself, to wrap the poor pathetic creatures around her little finger. Even after all these years, she was amazed that a few bright smiles, head tilts, and soft touches had each one of them doing her bidding – all the while believing it was their own grand idea. Morons.

Marisa would much rather be revered for her brain than her body, but her tricks came in handy – especially when she was already three drinks deep and realized she didn’t have any of this world’s money to pay for them.

Lifting her gin to her lips, she suddenly felt eyes on her. Suppressing a groan, she looked up expecting to see the bartender bounding back over to her like an overactive puppy being shown attention for the first time in its little life – but she did not find brown eyes staring back at her.

She found blue.

Across the bar, Mary Malone was regarding her with a bold, straightforward, unwavering stare. A tall, half-empty glass was clutched between her hands and her cheeks were flushed, a gentle pink spreading the whole way down her neck to where it disappeared under her shirt collar.

Their eyes met. Marisa expected Mary to get flustered, but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded. A single nod. An _I see you_ acknowledgement. Marisa nodded back, and then raised her glass. Mary did the same, smiling a bit and taking a drink.

“You two friends?” The bartender was back. Marisa sighed.

“Acquaintances, really,” She answered. Then an idea struck her and she turned her complete attention on the man before her. “Finlay,” She purred.

He smiled in a lopsided way, leaning down to get closer to her. “Mar _isa_.”

“You’ve done so much for me already, but could I ask for one more small favor?”

“Name it,” He was so eager. There really wasn’t _any_ fun in this anymore.

“Two shots, over there?” She nodded towards Mary, who was no longer watching her and instead typing on her cell phone. “Lemon drops, if you could?”

“Anything for you, babe.”

Marisa smiled until he turned away - then the smile slipped away and she pressed her lips together in a tight line. Before Finlay could send over the shots and force more unwanted conversation upon her, she hopped down from her stool. Smoothing down her skirt and blouse, she grabbed her gin and made her way across the room and to the other side of the bar. Mary was fully enthralled in her cell phone - a device that Marisa neither understood nor cared for, as it seemed like nothing but a waste of time - and didn't notice her presence, even when Marisa cleared her throat.

“May I?”

Mary jumped, dropping the phone onto the bar with a clatter. “Oh! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Marisa smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She settled herself onto the stool next to Mary, crossing her legs while the redhead regarded her with a mix of curiosity and slight irritation.

“What are you doing here?” Mary pulled her drink closer and took a long sip, slurping at the empty bottom in a way that made Marisa’s eye twitch.

“Can’t a girl have a drink at a bar?” She quirked her eyebrow, and Mary shrugged.

“Right. I just didn’t know you were still in town, is all.”

Marisa frowned at that. Two weeks. It had been almost two weeks since she’d dropped into Mary Malone’s office, and then escaped at the first chance she’d had. The visit was too much for her – the realization that this woman, with messy hair and wrinkled clothing, had a doctorate. Had everything Marisa had ever wanted.

Marisa had tried to put the encounter out of her mind, assuring herself she’d be out of this world and reunited with her daughter in mere hours…but that didn’t happen. Boreal’s plan, which was poorly implemented at best, was not working. He kept assuring her that Lyra would come, and yet Lyra kept not coming.

Two weeks of waiting, of spending time with Boreal, and of frustration had led her here. A small bar near Mary’s university, with a young male bartender who wouldn’t hesitate to cater to her every desire.

“Two shots for two beautiful women!”

Marisa was pulled from her thoughts as two shot glasses were placed in front of her. The bartender smiled at Mary, who looked deeply confused, but his eyes lingered on Marisa.

“Thank you, Finlay.” She breathed. He nodded and, thankfully, wandered off to help someone else.

“What’s this?” Mary looked at her.

“It’s a shot, Mrs. Ma — _Dr_. Malone.” The slip was unintentional, yet it made Marisa’s stomach twist. Dr. Mary Malone.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, the smallest voice whispered hesitantly: _Dr. Marisa Coulter_.

“What if I didn’t want a shot?” Mary tilted her head, and then turned her whole body – angling herself with one elbow on the bar, facing Marisa. “Or what if I was allergic to citrus and couldn’t drink lemon drops?”

“I suppose that would mean there was more alcohol for me,” Marisa picked up her shot. “Are you allergic to citrus, Dr. Malone?”

“Well, no.”

Marisa couldn’t help the way her lips tilted up. This woman was insufferable yet endearing…and Marisa considered very few people endearing. “Well, now that we have that settled…?” She held up the shot and raised her eyebrows.

Mary looked unsure for a moment, but then sighed. She grabbed her shot and held it up, clinking it against Marisa’s and throwing it back. Marisa watched Mary swallow the liquid and scrunch up her nose at the burn, and then downed her own shot in one fluid motion. She did not react to the taste; yet another skill she'd picked up from being the only woman in a room full of men. It knocked some of their superiority out of them, seeing her drink straight liquor without so much as a blink while they winced and groaned at the burn.

“Thank you,” Mary sighed, pushing the empty shot glass away. “Normally I’m not much for drinking but…it’s been a day.”

“How so?” Marisa sipped her gin, then placed one elbow on the bar. She rested her cheek against her upturned palm and focused her attention on Mary.

“Last time we met, you spoke of your studies in…what was it?” Mary’s eyes squinted as she thought, then widened when the answer went off in her mind like a lightbulb. “Experimental theology. Do you have any male coworkers, Marisa?”

Marisa’s throat tightened. “A few.”

“So, then you’ll understand,” Mary swiveled in her stool so that she was facing Marisa head on, her knees coming to rest against Marisa’s. This was the type of casual touch that Marisa usually pulled away from, but for some reason she didn’t quite mind this time. There was something about the gentle nature of this woman that made Marisa feel almost at ease with her. “There’s someone in my department – let’s call him Joseph. Joseph is an ass.”

She paused to wave down Finlay, motioning for a refill on her drink. Finlay quirked a brow at Marisa, and she shook her head. She had to drive home, after all.

“He thinks,” Mary continued on, turning all of her attention back to Marisa. “That because I am a woman, he should be the student advisor next semester instead of me.”

Marisa was instantly filled with rage. Whoever this man was, she wanted to find him and rip his insides out through his eyeballs.

Mary’s drink arrived and she started fidgeting with the straw, swirling it around and around in the glass. “He didn’t say that, not in so many words. He said he wanted to give me more time to focus on my research and that this could take some responsibilities off of my plate.”

Marisa was still seething and didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Which, I mean, I suppose some extra free time to spend in the lab would be helpful for the research. Especially with—,” Mary cut herself off, quickly, staring guiltily down into her drink. “Especially with recent events."

Marisa knew she was talking about Lyra. Whatever questions Lyra had posed to Mary, it was obvious that the scientist was still trying to discover the answers. But, clearly, she hadn’t yet. A deep curiosity burned in Marisa to find out what it was, and an almost insatiable desire to join Mary in the lab flooded through her. She clenched her empty glass in her hand and took a breath. She could not lose control, not here, not in this world. Mary obviously hadn’t made any more progress regarding Dust. If she had, Marisa would be able to sniff it out like a dog with a bone. No, Mary was as stuck in her research as Marisa was in her quest for Lyra. 

“It was just the way he said it,” Mary was talking again, and Marisa realized she hadn’t listened to a word. “In front of everyone at the staff meeting. ‘Oh, Mary, you should take a break, so you stop sleeping at the lab! The students are worried’ and so on.”

“Your students are worried about you?” That was an unusual concept. Marisa couldn’t imagine worrying about one of her teachers, let alone having a teacher pay any semblance of notice to her.

“A bit, yeah,” Mary nodded, smiling, her eyes glazing over as her mind went somewhere else entirely. “We’re a small department. I see them at their worst, and they see me at my worst. There’s one, Jess, she tends to show up at my office with coffee after class if she sees me in the morning wearing the same clothes as the day before.”

How strange. Visiting a scholar, in their personal office, outside of the lecture? To bring them a drink? Marisa was sure she would’ve been kicked off the campus without a second thought. They would’ve assumed the worst of her, and her reputation would have been tarnished many years before the affair with Asriel had done so.

“Anyway,” Mary shook her head, smiling at Marisa. “I’m sorry for blithering away. I ought to get going because if I have another of these,” She glanced at her glass, “I’m going to really give my students a reason to worry in the morning.”

Mary threw some money on the bar and was on her feet, then. Marisa watched her for a moment before her hand snaked out to grab the wad of notes.

“Here,” She said, holding them back out to Mary, who looked confused. “It’s on me tonight.”

She caught Finlay's eye and winked. He grinned, rolled his eyes, but gave a single nod acquiescence.

Mary shook her head, “All I did was complain to you, I can’t allow—,”

Marisa wrapped her fingers around the other woman’s hand, pulling it towards her and flipping it palm up. She deposited the notes and then curled Mary’s fingers over them, smiling all the while.

“Please, it’s my treat,” Marisa found herself giving Mary _that smile_ for no reason other than that she…wanted to? “Consider it a sign of solidarity and my way of acknowledging that you are more than capable of teaching and researching at the same time. It was lovely talking with you tonight, Dr. Malone.”

Mary's cheeks took on a noticeably pinker hue. She brought her free hand to rest on top of Marisa’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiled, wide and warm, and the sight of it nearly took Marisa’s breath away.

“That’s very kind. Thank you. I hope to see you around again, Dr. Coulter.”

 _Dr. Coulter_.

The words swept over Marisa with the force of an avalanche and, suddenly, she felt like she was drowning. _Dr. Coulter_. She’d never believed she’d hear that out loud least of all here, in a random bar, spoken so casually by a woman who actually held that title. A woman who believed that she, Marisa Coulter, held a terminal degree in her field as well. That she was capable of such an achievement.

Many of the same emotions from her first meeting with Mary Malone came swirling back, and Marisa realized just how much she ached for what Mary had. A doctorate, a title, a student to mentor who would bring her coffee simply because they _cared_.

Marisa took the long way back to Boreal’s house that night, and when she arrived she sat on the steps and looked up at the stars. It was a cool night, but clear. She thought about being a child and staring out the window of her parent’s home, dreaming about all the great things she’d do. At some point, she gave up on those dreams. She realized she could achieve great things without the title and respect – and that had been enough.

It wasn’t enough anymore.

Sitting on the front steps, looking up at the stars, Marisa spoke the words aloud for the first time. Words that sent a shiver of excitement, and terror, down her spine. Words that could become a reality in this world.

“Dr. Marisa Coulter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I have a lot of feelings about women being respected in typically male-dominated spaces (and also taking down the patriarchy lol), and Marisa not being allowed a proper education/acknowledgement for that education has given me many thoughts. I also have only attended undergrad (so far) so the close relationship Mary mentions she has with her students is based off of my personal experience being in a very small tight-knit department, so I hope it rings true in this context. 
> 
> I realize I don't mention the monkey in this fic, but I couldn't find a good way to fit him in. In my head-canon he's outside in the backseat of the Tesla, pouting. Lol. 
> 
> Anyway, this was completely inspired by a scene I just watched in The Affair where Ruth Wilson's character has a conversation in a bar with another character. AKA this was inspired by Ruth Wilson sitting in a bar. She has too much power over me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! :)


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